Years leave marks (model essay 1)
Years leave marks (model essay 1)
Years leave marks (model essay 1)
Fuzhou No.3 Middle School and No.3 Middle School Chi Zijie
What a person has experienced will not be easily forgotten with the passage of time, but most of it can be quietly accumulated and condensed into a book called Time, leaving a lingering fragrance in the book.
Whenever I read this book, I will not only be moved by the so-called great events in my memory, but also be surprised to feel a new taste from the broken years.
( 1)
When I was a child, I had a group of playmates in my hometown in the country. No matter what they play every day, several children aged six or seven always like to get together. Play marbles together, catch fish together, catch grasshoppers together, even climb trees and shoot each other without telling adults. I didn't care at first, but I thought this life was barbaric and interesting. Even if I left my hometown and went to Fuzhou later, I didn't feel too lost, because I remembered what my mother said: "In the city, you will make new friends."
After years of dull city life, I seldom think of my laughter and playmates. Last summer vacation, I went back to my hometown and stayed at home for only five days. I haven't seen my playmate again. Maybe even if I see them, I don't think I can recognize them. However, I don't know why, the night before I left my hometown, I was young and remembered that dusty childhood, like a meteor crossing the night sky and breaking the silence and my lost heart, and suddenly realized that the laughter and laughter in those days were the epitome of my childhood and an insurmountable stage of my life. Blue sky, scorching sun, old houses, streams, grass, playmates, wicker and straw hats have all dried up, but their memories are still there.
Although more than ten years have passed since that happy childhood, its traces will not be erased, but it will be softly hidden in my heart, quietly waiting for the day when I have it again.
(2)
One day after school in grade two, I walked home with a small bag on my back. Suddenly, after the lightning, it rained heavily in the sky instead of the sun. I just wanted to find a store to shelter from the rain, and I thought, "Forget it, the whole person is wet for more than half, just run back." I just ran two steps in the rain when a young uncle with glasses raised his umbrella over my head and asked, "Where is your home, little friend?" I'll give you a ride. "
When I got home, I said reflexively, "Thank you, uncle!" "I ran upstairs and forgot about it as I ran, and I didn't mention it to my family. It was not until I didn't know what grade I was in Grade Four class, and the teacher was sweating over the topic of "helping others" that I first remembered my uncle who took me home with an umbrella, thinking that what my uncle did was much more vivid than the teacher's long speech.
It is also a simple time segment, which I remembered only after many years, but little by little gathered into a warm current, warming my heart that seems to have been numb for a long time.
The years of growing up have left a faint trace in my heart, just like red wine in an oak barrel. Time will not let it deteriorate, but will make it more mellow and moving.
Years leave marks (model essay 2)
I often say: the days when the wheat awn is propped up are the years when the wheat awn is cut off; Man is the mark of time.
When I was a child, during the harvest season in June, my grandfather would tie a handkerchief on his head and take the whole family into the harvested wheat field. Golden wheat, like silks and satins that have been knocked over by mistake, ripples in the wind, and a lot of gorgeous and psychedelic hearts and eyes. I stood on the ridge and began to allocate their main battlefield, keeping the biggest piece for myself.
I am the backbone of a big family, with dark skin, short spirit and strong body. I am sure that I will never die, just like the century-old tree at the door, which is always getting old, but its vigorous branches hold up half the sky. But grandpa said that no one can travel through time and carry on the years. People get old as soon as they leave, and years leave a mark on them. They are old, their teeth are shaking badly and their eyes are glassy. They are too old to have dreams. When they bend down to pick up stones, they will be panting, and eventually they will be taken away by the years and never come back.
Later, my stubble turned into a gray beard, shaking like the legendary old fairy. There are small brown spots on my face. I wonder if this is the trace of time. At this time, I will touch my head and smile heartily: "Haha, this is the trace of time, an immortal masterpiece!" " "
It was June of another year, and my grandfather led me to the wheat field with a tobacco pouch in one hand. Trembling, he picked up an ear of wheat, crushed it, gently blew off the bran, picked one and put it in his mouth, chewed it carefully and tasted it thoughtfully. I dragged my grandfather to the corner: Grandpa, look there. "At the end of the wheat field, the golden wheat is dizzy with a misty beauty. I pointed to the distance: "fly over. "Just like the general who assigned the battlefield in those days, it made me feel that the years really went back. I spread my arms and walked along the ridge of running all the way, like a butterfly in spring. I touched the mature wheat awn, unlike the beard now, like the stubble in the early years, stinging people.
Grandpa said, a person, throughout his life, there is always a road to the end, there is always a hurdle to cross, so, ah, people have to stand up. When the wheat lies under the sickle, the wheat grains will plunge into the soil. Everything in the world is respected by people, but after a snow, people silently walk away with the years.
In this world, it is not the house that can keep people, but the road that can take people away. Time can't stretch out a hand to catch the past clouds for me. If everything could be done again. Grandpa, I want to pick up your smile, footsteps and wind, make lamp oil with your love, and make twists with your faith. I want to light it, keep it in my heart and cherish it for a lifetime. Just like the mark left by years on the face, it will be unforgettable for life.
Grandpa said that people are the scars of years, and people can't carry the years. In fact, time can't carry people. Because I see the wheat growing season after season in the distant land, which is the undercurrent of life, gurgling. ...
Years leave marks (model essay 3)
Staring at the hourglass on the desk, it just slipped down slowly, for thousands of years. At this moment, I feel that the years have passed, but looking back, I can't find any traces of the past. I am like a naive child, picking up the bits and pieces of that year by the river of memory. I'm sorry, I lost so much. The only thing that impressed me in my memory was the old house, standing at the end of the country like a kind old man, waiting for my return.
I never thought that the old house would collapse one day, just like it collapsed at that moment with a thousand years of sadness, like a wandering and exhausted wanderer who suddenly fell on the vast Gobi desert and no longer had the strength to move himself. A wooden stick on the beam hit the ground when I fled in panic, as if to take me into my arms. I don't know whether to cry for her or to be glad that I survived.
I was in a trance for several days, and the house fell down, and the only trace left by the years suddenly became silent. I just remembered that the wall was covered with awards from my sister and me and a wicker straw hat woven in spring. Although it has dried, my memory still exists. It's a pity that the traces left by the years have not been discovered until now. The old house that accompanied me for many years witnessed my growth. Although I can't speak, I understand her mind.
When I saw my uncle's newly decorated residence, I missed the old house even more. The orange light shines in the small room. Under the light, my mother's patched back and I insist on doing my homework. It has been several months since I went home again, and the new foundation has been laid, but I have no joy. I don't know if there is an old house groaning under the foundation, and I feel like a homeless child. No matter how good the new house is, it is lifeless and doomed to be out of my life. My soul has been given to the old house. All warm pictures can only be like the photos in the photo frame on the wall, which exist in the depths of memory and emit lasting fragrance.
From the moment I fell from the old house, I was trying to find it, for fear that those blurred traces of time would be silent with the old house, just like people shivering in the cold wind trying to catch the last burnt-out candle to warm their lives.
Pushing open the creaking door, the leaves on the papaya tree have fallen to the ground and the vines in the autumn wind are still there. Yes, they are still there. Just like every winter, they will answer this question next spring. Praised and trampled by the questioner. What's your comment on this answer? Put away comments//high quality or satisfaction or special types or recommended answers dottimewindow.iperformance & window.iperformance.mark ('c _ best',+newdate); Lawyer recommendation service: If your problem has not been solved, please describe your problem in detail and seek free professional advice through Baidu Law Professional Edition. For other similar questions, ask for a short essay with the theme of years, about 800 words, not too good, just generally good. . 312014-04-10 asked to write a senior high school composition of not less than 800 words on the topic of "years"12012-08-31to "years" Write an essay of 800- 1 composition 520 14-04-09, and an essay of more than 600 words, 62017-1-25, with the title "Time has passed" 20 13-08-30 composition, narrative 1 more similar questions? & gt recommended for you: F.context('cmsRight', [{'URL':'/d01373f082025aaf511aa256e9edab64034f1a07? x-BCE-process = image % 2f resize % 2Cm _ lfit % 2Cw _ 450% 2Ch _ 600% 2c limit _ 1% 2f quality % 2Cq _ 85% 2f format % 2Cf _ auto '， ' contractId':'A24KA00562 '，}，{ ' URL ':/builder/bjh-activity/articlesTask？ taskId = 1598082 & aside = 0 & footer = true & from = 0 '，' src ':'/203 FB 80 e 7 bec 54 e 773 ea 0680 ab 389 b 504 fc 26 a2d？ x-BCE-process = image % 2f resize % 2Cm _ lfit % 2Cw _ 450% 2Ch _ 600% 2c limit _ 1% 2f quality % 2Cq _ 85% 2f format % 2Cf _ auto '，' contractId ':' '，}，{ ' URL ':/s？ word = % E6 % AC % A7 % E6 % B4 % B2 % E6 % 9D % AF & sa = searchpromo _ ozb _ zhidao _ tuijian '，' src ':'/3 BF 33 a 87 e 950352 AAF 5 df 4954 143 fbf2b 2 1 18 b6b？ x-BCE-process = image % 2f resize % 2Cm _ lfit % 2Cw _ 450% 2Ch _ 600% 2c limit _ 1% 2f quality % 2Cq _ 85% 2f format % 2Cf _ auto '，' contractId ':' '，}])； Why is the cost of cancer treatment getting higher and higher? The price of electric cars has dropped many times. Is the quality guaranteed? What impact will the "network toilet" have? Is Huaqiang North's second-hand mobile phone reliable? I recommend f.context ('recbrand', [{"img": "\/86D6277F9E2F07083523F69DFB 24B 899A901F20d? x-BCE-process = image % 2f resize % 2Cm _ lfit % 2Cw _ 450% 2Ch _ 600% 2c limit _ 1% 2f quality % 2Cq _ 85% 2f format % 2Cf _ auto "，" url":"/hm.js？ 6859 ce 5a af 00 FB 00387 e 6434 E4 FCC 925 "； var s = document . getelementsbytagname(" script ")[0]； s.parentNode.insertBefore(hm，s)； })(); window . TT = 1720645473；